Fic: Newcomers: Captain Anna-Maria Rodriguez, USAF (SGA, OC, R)
Title: Newcomers: Captain Anna-Maria Rodriguez, USAF
Rating: R for language
Character: OC
Disclaimer: The context isn't mine (the main character is, as are the mistakes, currently pertaining to combat aircraft), no harm meant.
Summary: She just wants to fly.
A/N: Seventh in the Newcomers series, after The Sensei of Govanhill.
Captain Anna-Maria Rodriguez, USAF
"Whoo-eee. You're listening to AM/FM Radio Ro-Ro-Rodriguez, live and in the skies over sunny - where are we, Cougar-bait?"
"Don't call me that."
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Get off the radio, Radio. Why do they call you that, anyway, 'Radio'? It's a dumbass call-sign."
"Right back at you, Cougar-bait."
"Don't call me that."
"Cut the chatter, boys and girls. We'll be over the target in-"
"Whoa, what the fuck-"
"Enemy fire at-"
"Radio, Cougar, break-"
"Strafe the fuckers-"
"Boots, you've got one-"
"Jesus, I'm hit-"
"Eject! Boots, eject!"
"-whole wing's just gone-"
"Boots! eject!"
"Motherf-"
"Did we get them?"
"I think so."
"Jesus, what the fuck was that?"
"That was the target."
"Seriously? Fuck."
"Boots' down. Cougar, Radio-"
"Right behind you sir."
"Radio?"
"What the-"
"Come in, Radio."
"Shit, I can't see her."
"Rodriguez-"
"Anna?"
~
The F-16 isn't designed for crashing. That's why they have ejector seats. Next time, she's going to remember that.
Not that ejecting when you're that close to the ground would have done any good.
Wasn't a good idea to think about that too much, because she still might turn out to be dead.
She tumbles from the cockpit.
She pulls herself upright and walks up the slope beside her plane to get her bearings. Warmth blooms behind her, and it's a moment before she drops to the ground to escape the blast.
Warmth pricks behind her eyes, and she shakes her head to send it away.
She stands up again. The sun's higher. Home is - base is - that way? Too far. The column of smoke from Boots' plane is almost completely in the opposite direction. Somewhere between here and there, he'd ejected. They'll be looking for him, not her, because she's pretty sure now that she couldn't have survived that crash.
She shakes her head again, trying to clear it. No, she's not dead. But two downed pilots in enemy territory are easier to find together than separately.
She can't tell how far he'd drifted. But the wind's driving hard into her face, so chances are, he'll be right on her path to the other crash site.
She can't remember seeing him eject.
~
They sent her home, after that, with commendations and the promise of medals and a job sitting on her ass somewhere in the Mid West.
It takes a moment for Anna to notice that she's been joined in the waiting room. Another moment to scramble to her feet and salute the General. He raises an eyebrow at her. "Siddown, Lieutenant. Rodriguez, isn't it?"
She nods, and sits, ankles together, wrists crossed, like her grandmother and Sergeant Matthews both taught her.
The General looks around him expectantly, and the sergeant accompanying him leaps forward with a file. "Afghanistan, right? All kindsa-" Her file. " 'crazy shit' it says here. Not-" He waves the file in an elaborate movement. "Explicitly."
"Sir."
"So, they stopped you flying." She freezes, and he nods. "Yeah, I can see why Sheppard thought you'd be a good fit."
Sheppard - "John Sheppard?"
The General settles further into his chair, watching her from behind his sunglasses.
John Sheppard - salutory lesson Sheppard, fuck-up Sheppard - she'd only know him three months before he'd screwed the pooch so spectacularly that they sent him to Antartica. She'd liked Shep, if only because he'd loved flying almost as much as she did, but if John Sheppard thought she was a good fit for something, her career's probably a lot more screwed than she'd thought.
She tries to remember what she'd last heard about Sheppard - still in Antartica, or bus runs over Utah, or dishonorably discharged. Rehab, someone had told her. Someone else had claimed to have seen him in DC in full dress blues, more medals than the General here. Boots had said that meant Special Ops, black ops - suicide missions.
"Far be it for me to take advice from a man with hair like that-" Anna tries not to laugh. Shep's hair had been the subject of much speculation. "But your record speaks for itself. You don't, apparently, but your record does."
"Sir?"
"Still want to fly?"
"Sir, yessir." She can't say it fast enough.
" 'kay." The General leaps to his feet.
"Sir," says the sergeant in a chiding tone.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, stuff to sign. Well, go ahead."
The sergeant hands her a document to sign, and another - a whole series, duplicates, triplicates. "Standard non-disclosure, ma'am." It doesn't look standard to her.
As she signs the last sheet, she says "Sir, permission to speak freely?"
"Shoot." He frowns. "Is that a bad way of putting that?"
"Sir, forgive me if I've missed something, but what-"
"Right! First off- Welcome to Homeworld Security." He shakes her hand, his grip firm, and then hooks his sunglasses off. His eyes are sharper than she expected. "Tell me, how d'ya feel about spaceships?"
~
She likes spaceships.
The F-302s are gorgeous. Okay, they're stupid-looking things, like stunned pigeons dropped from a great height, but they're a beautiful ride. Not an easy one - about half the pilots in the initial training program wash out, but not even the high-altitude 'Inertial Dampeners Failure' simulation can stop her flying.
The 2nd Strategic Earth Defense Wing doesn't see much action. They're scrambled to deal with one hijacked Al'kesh, but most action they see involves using meteoroids for target practice, even though none of them are large enough to be a threat. She concentrates on perfecting her flying, and pushes to get onto Mitchell's advanced training program.
She kind of hates herself for crushing on him, because he's exactly the kind of All-American pretty boy with a smart mouth that makes her hate the Air Force. But behind that, and the godawful southern charm that has him holding doors open for her, there's a damn fine pilot, one that recognises her as a damn fine pilot. All it takes is a slap on the back and a "Good flying today, Radio," and she's sold.
She resigns herself to it. One thing she's learned since she joined the SGC - everybody has a crush on at least one current or former member of SG-1. She's been dining out on "Jack O'Neill recruited me personally" for months.
~
Promotion comes with a re-assignment, and her squadron joins the Apollo.
It's pretty much the definition of long periods of boredom followed by brief moments of terror. It takes three weeks to get to Atlantis, and Anna and her fellow pilots have even less to do during hyperspace travel than the Apollo's crew.
But when they get there, she's one of the pilots who helps position the asteroid in the path of the Asuran weapon that's burning through Atlantis' shields. They're led by Major Lorne, and she's glad of his cool assurance, because it's pretty much the freakiest thing she's done, spacecraft or no.
When they get back on the Apollo, the ship's heaving with Atlantis personnel. Over the next twelve hours, she's heard more improbable stories about what 'Sheppard and McKay' can achieve than she ever heard about SG-1.
And then they arrive at M12-578, and the city isn't there.
She's more impressed by Major Lorne's calm in the next 24 hours, because he sets the tone for the rest of the Atlantis people. She couldn't swear to it, but she thinks he must have spoken to every member of the expedition on the Apollo.
~
"Sir?"
He takes a moment to focus on her. "Hey, Captain - Rodriguez, right? What can I do for you?"
"Colonel Carter sent me to ask when you last slept."
He quirks a half-smile at her. "Well, I was on Atlantis at the time. Last week, I think."
"That's what the Colonel speculated. She suggested you might like to take a break."
"Has she found her yet?" He's not so tired he can't be a little sarcastic. Only a little, because it stutters on 'her'.
Her. Atlantis. "I'm sure you'll be the first to know."
"And if she doesn't? I-" He scrubs his face with his hands. "I have to be there."
"Yessir. I'll make sure you're given time."
He holds her gaze for a moment, then lets himself droop. "Yeah."
She shows him to the nearest empty cabin, and closes the door on him as he mutters something that might be "Carter Ladies School of 'Don't Bullshit Me', right there," as he falls on the bunk.
She doesn't have anything better to do, so she drags a chair to where she can see his cabin, and sets up an unofficial guard on Major Lorne's door.
In the end, there's only one potential interruption. Anna's almost nodding off herself when one of the scientists wanders past looking lost and worn as ragged as the Major. She waves him over.
"Looking for Major Lorne?"
"Yes, is he-"
"He's asleep," Anna says with finality, and the man's face eases with relief.
"Finally." He sighs. "Sheppard's bad example. Has to do everything himself."
"You look like you could do with some sleep yourself."
He shakes his head. "Tried that. Didn't work. Trying caffeine now."
She can't help but smile at that, and he smiles back. She holds out her hand. "Rodriguez."
"Parrish. David Parrish. It's-" He waves a hand at her insignia. "Captain, right?" She nods. "Ev- Major Lorne has to keep reminding me. Mental block. I can tell Usnea substerilis from Usnea lapponica, but can't differentiate officer from airman. Not in the wild, anyway."
"You're on the Major's gate team?" It's beyond her that they're still running the Atlantis mission as a scientific expedition, the IOA notwithstanding.
"Sometimes. Don't get offworld as much as I'd like. People keep attacking us," he adds, deadpan, but he beams when she laughs.
Anna's radio buzzes at her. "Rodriguez here."
"Captain, this is Colonel Carter. Can you ask Major Lorne to report to the bridge?"
~
With Atlantis so low on power, they cannot risk transferring anyone back, so the Apollo is dangerously crowded when they drop into orbit around the Replicator homeworld. It also means that the news of Dr Weir's loss travels through the Apollo fast.
It's the first time she's seen Sheppard since Afghanistan.
Her first instinct is to think that he hasn't changed, but that isn't right. The hair hasn't changed, but there's something, and it isn't just the shock of loosing Dr Weir. She saw him after Holland's death, and she recognises those lines.
They're in the mess. The atmosphere is subdued, the Apollo's crew well aware of the loss suffered by the city's people.
Sheppard picks at the food in front of him, pushing it round the tray and barely eating. Dr McKay is stuffing his face, but doesn't give any appearance of enjoyment. Ronon Dex is nowhere to be seen. Major Lorne, a few seats away, is eating with the regular motions of an automaton.
Sheppard rouses himself, dropping his fork with a clatter that makes the whole room look up. "We need more pilots."
"Sir?"
"We had to clear an asteroid field with the jumpers. We need more pilots"
"We did okay," protests McKay. "Besides, we don't intend to go through all that again, do we?"
"We were lucky, says Sheppard. "On both counts." Just not the third, thinks Anna.
"They haven't found any more natural gene carriers, or they would have sent them," says Lorne.
McKay snorts at that. "Right, because the SGC always makes our best interests its top priority."
"It's the jumpers, the artificial gene's enough. I want pilots," says Sheppard.
"Yessir." Anna knows what Lorne's thinking. He's a pilot.
"Christ, Lorne, I didn't mean-" Sheppard breaks off. "If you hadn't gotten that rock in place, it would all have been moot anyway."
"There was time to make it back to the city."
"No, no. I'm not going to second guess - I just mean - we have thirty-odd jumpers and we barely use half of them. We need more pilots."
~
She regrets any insult she threw at the F-302s when she first sees the puddlejumpers. But if the 302s are a sweet ride, the jumpers are an experience. Instead of the push and pull on her hands, there's a push and pull on her mind. She knows it's just a machine like the 302s, but she can't help feeling that the jumper wants to fly as much as she does.
"Wow," she gasps, as the jumper settles.
The quiet, careful Marine sergeant who's been putting her through her paces suddenly bursts out laughing. "Yeah, it takes some people like that."
She goes up with both Sheppard and Lorne - they want to get a feel for her strengths as a pilot. She's careful with Lorne, who clears her for duty without hesitation. She does the same with Sheppard, until she notices him looking at her sideways. She loosens up after that, and flips the jumper into a spin that almost catches him unawares. By the end of the half hour flight to the mainland, they're both grinning like loons, and Sheppard finds her several poisonous snakes to take out with the drones before they head back.
She freakin' loves spaceships.
~
She's not assigned to a team. Instead, she's there to to provide air support when it's needed. More waiting, more boredom, more brief, brief excitement.
The excitement falls roughly into three categories: hovering threateningly while the Marines rescue Sheppard's team (that's unfair - it's not always AR-1); dogfights with Wraith darts (which shouldn't be as much fun as it is); and airlifting refugees (she stops bitching about this after the second time they have to re-evacuate people from one of the 'safe' planets).
She doesn't even leave the jumper until M2V-386, when Major Hughes' radio cuts out. All she hears is "I see ten Wrai-"
Once again she finds herself wondering why the SGC still allows Atlantis to be run as a research expedition. Sure, it makes sense to have McKay and the other Ancient tech guys around, but the anthropologists, the biologists, the botanists? When does that become a good idea?
Lorne doesn't get into half this much trouble when he's leading a purely military team.
Drake gives her a pissy look when Anna orders her to stay with the jumper, which Anna ignores, because it looks a lot like the one she threw Hughes when he decided to leave the jumper out here. She grabs a handful of extra clips for her P90, and heads out to find two Majors, a botanist and eight Recon Marines, and tries not to curse so loudly that the Wraith will find her first.
~
She's finding out that David is as excited by plants that are the same in Pegasus and on Earth as he is by plants that are completely new. Possibly more so. "You have to understand the implications, Captain. It tells us so much about the Ancients, about how they thought. Maybe not why they did all this -"
"They really liked conifers?" Someone - it's probably Shaughnessy - snorts at that, and then groans. Broken ribs are a bitch to laugh through.
David grins. "I mean, they must have been real control freaks, right? Left to their own devices, each of these planets must have had the potential to evolve millions of species. Anything you can imagine, more than you can imagine. It would have been - astonishing." He throws out his arms to emphasise the point, and nearly overturns Anna's IV. "Can you imagine if every planet you gated to was completely unique? And yet the Ancients turned every single one into a little parody of Earth. And not just Earth, a very specific temperate zone."
"Yeah, that's pretty weird. I'd have gone for something a little balmier."
"No, no, that's the thing, they're not pretty, but they're consistent. The temperate conditions mean that the human population is far more secure. Anything more equatorial or polar, and the weather systems are more extreme. Much harder for humans to survive."
"They could just have given the humans the technology to survive."
"Like I said, control freaks. Of course, the really interesting thing is when the system breaks down. The moment you move away from the temperate zones, the planet starts to reassert itself. That's when you start to see really interesting variations. Evolution cannot be denied - even the Ancients didn't have the technology to stop it."
She's about to reply when she realises Major Lorne is standing at the foot of her bed, watching the two of them with a skeptical expression.
"Sir."
"Captain." Lorne's tone is dry, but she's pretty sure that's normal, and he isn't about to bawl her out for leaving the jumper, or nearly bringing the Wraith down on his secure, if radio-transmission dampening, position. He just nods to her, and turns to David. "So, you're doing well, Doc, if you can explain the Ancients to poor Rodriguez, here."
David taps the cast on his leg. "I'm okay. I suggested they try the extract from the Papaver somniferum variant we found on M4K-026, but Jennifer wants to run more tests on it."
"Papaver- Oh. Yeah. No, I'm pretty sure you don't need anything more than what she's giving you, David."
"Might keep him quiet," mutters Diaz, and Lorne shoots him a chiding look that rolls past Diaz like bullets through a Wraith. "Permission to get the hell out of here, sir?"
"Not 'til Keller clears you."
"Sir." Diaz isn't whining. "I only got stunned."
"Three times, Diaz." Diaz looks ready to complain again, but Lorne stops him. "I don't want to see you out of here until Keller tells me you're cleared. Doc -"
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah, I know." Lorne's biting down on a smile, but he looks concerned underneath that. He turns back to Anna, pulling her IV out of arm's reach from David's bed. "Captain."
"Sir, I-"
"Major Hughes sends his apologies." There's another snort from Shaughnessy, another groan, both of which Lorne ignores.
"He- I-" Really? thinks Anna.
"He's a little busy right now, but he wanted me to tell you he thinks you made a good decision out there."
"Uh, thank you?"
Lorne smiles, finally, and walks out of the infirmary without a second glance.
Diaz chuckles as he slips down from his bed. "Sheppard is kicking Hughes' ass right now."
~
None of the Atlantis pilots are happy about how it goes down when the Wraith find Earth. They all know pilots who died in the skies over Area 51.
"We know how to fight the Wraith," mutters Yates. "We could have gone through with Sheppard."
It's been a month, and they've gone over it a hundred times. Every time, it works out best if they were there, if the pilots flying 302s against the Wraith knew what they were facing.
It's been a month, and they still don't know if they're going back to Pegasus.
Sheppard looks tired when he enters the briefing room. "Okay, I'm gonna keep this short."
Anna's skin itches.
"As you know, we lost a lot of good pilots against the Wraith." They murmur agreement. "The SGC has decided to recall half of you to help with training new 302 pilots, as well as Earth Defense. I'm hoping -" Sheppard has to raise his voice against their reaction. "I'm hoping that some of you will want to volunteer -"
They're going back to Pegasus. The city's going back.
"- obviously priority will go those in recon teams -"
Meaning tough luck if you don't volunteer to stay. Nearly half the pilots are on teams. Anna barely listens as Sheppard says he'll speak to everyone individually.
She stays seated as the others leave, muttering their discontent. She's about to follow them when she realises Sheppard's still there.
"Hey, Rodriguez." He may be tired, but under it all he looks happy. No secret that Sheppard's desperate to get back to Pegasus. "How'd you feel about heading up a gate team when we get back?"
"Sir?" And then her brain catches up with the words. "Sir, yessir." She can't say it fast enough.
Continued in The Dark-Eyed Girl
The lichens Usnea substerilis and Usnea lapponica are both identified in Halonen, P., Clerc, P., Goward, T., Brodo, I.M. and Wulff, K. (1998) Synopsis of the genus Usnea (lichenized Ascomycetes) in British Columbia, Canada. The Bryologist 101(1): 36-60. Also in Goward, T. (1999) The lichens of British Columbia. Illustrated Keys. Part 2-Fruticose Species. British Columbia Ministry of Forests, special report 9. Victoria: Crown Publications, 319 pp. You don't need to know this, but I google the hell out of my improbable science. For all I know they look nothing alike, but on the other hand: lichen
Papaver somniferum - opium poppy :)
Yes, I gave a USAF pilot a callsign from Top Gun. Shame on me. I also named one after a chain of chemists, which is just peculiar.
Rating: R for language
Character: OC
Disclaimer: The context isn't mine (the main character is, as are the mistakes, currently pertaining to combat aircraft), no harm meant.
Summary: She just wants to fly.
A/N: Seventh in the Newcomers series, after The Sensei of Govanhill.
Captain Anna-Maria Rodriguez, USAF
"Whoo-eee. You're listening to AM/FM Radio Ro-Ro-Rodriguez, live and in the skies over sunny - where are we, Cougar-bait?"
"Don't call me that."
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Get off the radio, Radio. Why do they call you that, anyway, 'Radio'? It's a dumbass call-sign."
"Right back at you, Cougar-bait."
"Don't call me that."
"Cut the chatter, boys and girls. We'll be over the target in-"
"Whoa, what the fuck-"
"Enemy fire at-"
"Radio, Cougar, break-"
"Strafe the fuckers-"
"Boots, you've got one-"
"Jesus, I'm hit-"
"Eject! Boots, eject!"
"-whole wing's just gone-"
"Boots! eject!"
"Motherf-"
"Did we get them?"
"I think so."
"Jesus, what the fuck was that?"
"That was the target."
"Seriously? Fuck."
"Boots' down. Cougar, Radio-"
"Right behind you sir."
"Radio?"
"What the-"
"Come in, Radio."
"Shit, I can't see her."
"Rodriguez-"
"Anna?"
~
The F-16 isn't designed for crashing. That's why they have ejector seats. Next time, she's going to remember that.
Not that ejecting when you're that close to the ground would have done any good.
Wasn't a good idea to think about that too much, because she still might turn out to be dead.
She tumbles from the cockpit.
She pulls herself upright and walks up the slope beside her plane to get her bearings. Warmth blooms behind her, and it's a moment before she drops to the ground to escape the blast.
Warmth pricks behind her eyes, and she shakes her head to send it away.
She stands up again. The sun's higher. Home is - base is - that way? Too far. The column of smoke from Boots' plane is almost completely in the opposite direction. Somewhere between here and there, he'd ejected. They'll be looking for him, not her, because she's pretty sure now that she couldn't have survived that crash.
She shakes her head again, trying to clear it. No, she's not dead. But two downed pilots in enemy territory are easier to find together than separately.
She can't tell how far he'd drifted. But the wind's driving hard into her face, so chances are, he'll be right on her path to the other crash site.
She can't remember seeing him eject.
~
They sent her home, after that, with commendations and the promise of medals and a job sitting on her ass somewhere in the Mid West.
It takes a moment for Anna to notice that she's been joined in the waiting room. Another moment to scramble to her feet and salute the General. He raises an eyebrow at her. "Siddown, Lieutenant. Rodriguez, isn't it?"
She nods, and sits, ankles together, wrists crossed, like her grandmother and Sergeant Matthews both taught her.
The General looks around him expectantly, and the sergeant accompanying him leaps forward with a file. "Afghanistan, right? All kindsa-" Her file. " 'crazy shit' it says here. Not-" He waves the file in an elaborate movement. "Explicitly."
"Sir."
"So, they stopped you flying." She freezes, and he nods. "Yeah, I can see why Sheppard thought you'd be a good fit."
Sheppard - "John Sheppard?"
The General settles further into his chair, watching her from behind his sunglasses.
John Sheppard - salutory lesson Sheppard, fuck-up Sheppard - she'd only know him three months before he'd screwed the pooch so spectacularly that they sent him to Antartica. She'd liked Shep, if only because he'd loved flying almost as much as she did, but if John Sheppard thought she was a good fit for something, her career's probably a lot more screwed than she'd thought.
She tries to remember what she'd last heard about Sheppard - still in Antartica, or bus runs over Utah, or dishonorably discharged. Rehab, someone had told her. Someone else had claimed to have seen him in DC in full dress blues, more medals than the General here. Boots had said that meant Special Ops, black ops - suicide missions.
"Far be it for me to take advice from a man with hair like that-" Anna tries not to laugh. Shep's hair had been the subject of much speculation. "But your record speaks for itself. You don't, apparently, but your record does."
"Sir?"
"Still want to fly?"
"Sir, yessir." She can't say it fast enough.
" 'kay." The General leaps to his feet.
"Sir," says the sergeant in a chiding tone.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, stuff to sign. Well, go ahead."
The sergeant hands her a document to sign, and another - a whole series, duplicates, triplicates. "Standard non-disclosure, ma'am." It doesn't look standard to her.
As she signs the last sheet, she says "Sir, permission to speak freely?"
"Shoot." He frowns. "Is that a bad way of putting that?"
"Sir, forgive me if I've missed something, but what-"
"Right! First off- Welcome to Homeworld Security." He shakes her hand, his grip firm, and then hooks his sunglasses off. His eyes are sharper than she expected. "Tell me, how d'ya feel about spaceships?"
~
She likes spaceships.
The F-302s are gorgeous. Okay, they're stupid-looking things, like stunned pigeons dropped from a great height, but they're a beautiful ride. Not an easy one - about half the pilots in the initial training program wash out, but not even the high-altitude 'Inertial Dampeners Failure' simulation can stop her flying.
The 2nd Strategic Earth Defense Wing doesn't see much action. They're scrambled to deal with one hijacked Al'kesh, but most action they see involves using meteoroids for target practice, even though none of them are large enough to be a threat. She concentrates on perfecting her flying, and pushes to get onto Mitchell's advanced training program.
She kind of hates herself for crushing on him, because he's exactly the kind of All-American pretty boy with a smart mouth that makes her hate the Air Force. But behind that, and the godawful southern charm that has him holding doors open for her, there's a damn fine pilot, one that recognises her as a damn fine pilot. All it takes is a slap on the back and a "Good flying today, Radio," and she's sold.
She resigns herself to it. One thing she's learned since she joined the SGC - everybody has a crush on at least one current or former member of SG-1. She's been dining out on "Jack O'Neill recruited me personally" for months.
~
Promotion comes with a re-assignment, and her squadron joins the Apollo.
It's pretty much the definition of long periods of boredom followed by brief moments of terror. It takes three weeks to get to Atlantis, and Anna and her fellow pilots have even less to do during hyperspace travel than the Apollo's crew.
But when they get there, she's one of the pilots who helps position the asteroid in the path of the Asuran weapon that's burning through Atlantis' shields. They're led by Major Lorne, and she's glad of his cool assurance, because it's pretty much the freakiest thing she's done, spacecraft or no.
When they get back on the Apollo, the ship's heaving with Atlantis personnel. Over the next twelve hours, she's heard more improbable stories about what 'Sheppard and McKay' can achieve than she ever heard about SG-1.
And then they arrive at M12-578, and the city isn't there.
She's more impressed by Major Lorne's calm in the next 24 hours, because he sets the tone for the rest of the Atlantis people. She couldn't swear to it, but she thinks he must have spoken to every member of the expedition on the Apollo.
~
"Sir?"
He takes a moment to focus on her. "Hey, Captain - Rodriguez, right? What can I do for you?"
"Colonel Carter sent me to ask when you last slept."
He quirks a half-smile at her. "Well, I was on Atlantis at the time. Last week, I think."
"That's what the Colonel speculated. She suggested you might like to take a break."
"Has she found her yet?" He's not so tired he can't be a little sarcastic. Only a little, because it stutters on 'her'.
Her. Atlantis. "I'm sure you'll be the first to know."
"And if she doesn't? I-" He scrubs his face with his hands. "I have to be there."
"Yessir. I'll make sure you're given time."
He holds her gaze for a moment, then lets himself droop. "Yeah."
She shows him to the nearest empty cabin, and closes the door on him as he mutters something that might be "Carter Ladies School of 'Don't Bullshit Me', right there," as he falls on the bunk.
She doesn't have anything better to do, so she drags a chair to where she can see his cabin, and sets up an unofficial guard on Major Lorne's door.
In the end, there's only one potential interruption. Anna's almost nodding off herself when one of the scientists wanders past looking lost and worn as ragged as the Major. She waves him over.
"Looking for Major Lorne?"
"Yes, is he-"
"He's asleep," Anna says with finality, and the man's face eases with relief.
"Finally." He sighs. "Sheppard's bad example. Has to do everything himself."
"You look like you could do with some sleep yourself."
He shakes his head. "Tried that. Didn't work. Trying caffeine now."
She can't help but smile at that, and he smiles back. She holds out her hand. "Rodriguez."
"Parrish. David Parrish. It's-" He waves a hand at her insignia. "Captain, right?" She nods. "Ev- Major Lorne has to keep reminding me. Mental block. I can tell Usnea substerilis from Usnea lapponica, but can't differentiate officer from airman. Not in the wild, anyway."
"You're on the Major's gate team?" It's beyond her that they're still running the Atlantis mission as a scientific expedition, the IOA notwithstanding.
"Sometimes. Don't get offworld as much as I'd like. People keep attacking us," he adds, deadpan, but he beams when she laughs.
Anna's radio buzzes at her. "Rodriguez here."
"Captain, this is Colonel Carter. Can you ask Major Lorne to report to the bridge?"
~
With Atlantis so low on power, they cannot risk transferring anyone back, so the Apollo is dangerously crowded when they drop into orbit around the Replicator homeworld. It also means that the news of Dr Weir's loss travels through the Apollo fast.
It's the first time she's seen Sheppard since Afghanistan.
Her first instinct is to think that he hasn't changed, but that isn't right. The hair hasn't changed, but there's something, and it isn't just the shock of loosing Dr Weir. She saw him after Holland's death, and she recognises those lines.
They're in the mess. The atmosphere is subdued, the Apollo's crew well aware of the loss suffered by the city's people.
Sheppard picks at the food in front of him, pushing it round the tray and barely eating. Dr McKay is stuffing his face, but doesn't give any appearance of enjoyment. Ronon Dex is nowhere to be seen. Major Lorne, a few seats away, is eating with the regular motions of an automaton.
Sheppard rouses himself, dropping his fork with a clatter that makes the whole room look up. "We need more pilots."
"Sir?"
"We had to clear an asteroid field with the jumpers. We need more pilots"
"We did okay," protests McKay. "Besides, we don't intend to go through all that again, do we?"
"We were lucky, says Sheppard. "On both counts." Just not the third, thinks Anna.
"They haven't found any more natural gene carriers, or they would have sent them," says Lorne.
McKay snorts at that. "Right, because the SGC always makes our best interests its top priority."
"It's the jumpers, the artificial gene's enough. I want pilots," says Sheppard.
"Yessir." Anna knows what Lorne's thinking. He's a pilot.
"Christ, Lorne, I didn't mean-" Sheppard breaks off. "If you hadn't gotten that rock in place, it would all have been moot anyway."
"There was time to make it back to the city."
"No, no. I'm not going to second guess - I just mean - we have thirty-odd jumpers and we barely use half of them. We need more pilots."
~
She regrets any insult she threw at the F-302s when she first sees the puddlejumpers. But if the 302s are a sweet ride, the jumpers are an experience. Instead of the push and pull on her hands, there's a push and pull on her mind. She knows it's just a machine like the 302s, but she can't help feeling that the jumper wants to fly as much as she does.
"Wow," she gasps, as the jumper settles.
The quiet, careful Marine sergeant who's been putting her through her paces suddenly bursts out laughing. "Yeah, it takes some people like that."
She goes up with both Sheppard and Lorne - they want to get a feel for her strengths as a pilot. She's careful with Lorne, who clears her for duty without hesitation. She does the same with Sheppard, until she notices him looking at her sideways. She loosens up after that, and flips the jumper into a spin that almost catches him unawares. By the end of the half hour flight to the mainland, they're both grinning like loons, and Sheppard finds her several poisonous snakes to take out with the drones before they head back.
She freakin' loves spaceships.
~
She's not assigned to a team. Instead, she's there to to provide air support when it's needed. More waiting, more boredom, more brief, brief excitement.
The excitement falls roughly into three categories: hovering threateningly while the Marines rescue Sheppard's team (that's unfair - it's not always AR-1); dogfights with Wraith darts (which shouldn't be as much fun as it is); and airlifting refugees (she stops bitching about this after the second time they have to re-evacuate people from one of the 'safe' planets).
She doesn't even leave the jumper until M2V-386, when Major Hughes' radio cuts out. All she hears is "I see ten Wrai-"
Once again she finds herself wondering why the SGC still allows Atlantis to be run as a research expedition. Sure, it makes sense to have McKay and the other Ancient tech guys around, but the anthropologists, the biologists, the botanists? When does that become a good idea?
Lorne doesn't get into half this much trouble when he's leading a purely military team.
Drake gives her a pissy look when Anna orders her to stay with the jumper, which Anna ignores, because it looks a lot like the one she threw Hughes when he decided to leave the jumper out here. She grabs a handful of extra clips for her P90, and heads out to find two Majors, a botanist and eight Recon Marines, and tries not to curse so loudly that the Wraith will find her first.
~
She's finding out that David is as excited by plants that are the same in Pegasus and on Earth as he is by plants that are completely new. Possibly more so. "You have to understand the implications, Captain. It tells us so much about the Ancients, about how they thought. Maybe not why they did all this -"
"They really liked conifers?" Someone - it's probably Shaughnessy - snorts at that, and then groans. Broken ribs are a bitch to laugh through.
David grins. "I mean, they must have been real control freaks, right? Left to their own devices, each of these planets must have had the potential to evolve millions of species. Anything you can imagine, more than you can imagine. It would have been - astonishing." He throws out his arms to emphasise the point, and nearly overturns Anna's IV. "Can you imagine if every planet you gated to was completely unique? And yet the Ancients turned every single one into a little parody of Earth. And not just Earth, a very specific temperate zone."
"Yeah, that's pretty weird. I'd have gone for something a little balmier."
"No, no, that's the thing, they're not pretty, but they're consistent. The temperate conditions mean that the human population is far more secure. Anything more equatorial or polar, and the weather systems are more extreme. Much harder for humans to survive."
"They could just have given the humans the technology to survive."
"Like I said, control freaks. Of course, the really interesting thing is when the system breaks down. The moment you move away from the temperate zones, the planet starts to reassert itself. That's when you start to see really interesting variations. Evolution cannot be denied - even the Ancients didn't have the technology to stop it."
She's about to reply when she realises Major Lorne is standing at the foot of her bed, watching the two of them with a skeptical expression.
"Sir."
"Captain." Lorne's tone is dry, but she's pretty sure that's normal, and he isn't about to bawl her out for leaving the jumper, or nearly bringing the Wraith down on his secure, if radio-transmission dampening, position. He just nods to her, and turns to David. "So, you're doing well, Doc, if you can explain the Ancients to poor Rodriguez, here."
David taps the cast on his leg. "I'm okay. I suggested they try the extract from the Papaver somniferum variant we found on M4K-026, but Jennifer wants to run more tests on it."
"Papaver- Oh. Yeah. No, I'm pretty sure you don't need anything more than what she's giving you, David."
"Might keep him quiet," mutters Diaz, and Lorne shoots him a chiding look that rolls past Diaz like bullets through a Wraith. "Permission to get the hell out of here, sir?"
"Not 'til Keller clears you."
"Sir." Diaz isn't whining. "I only got stunned."
"Three times, Diaz." Diaz looks ready to complain again, but Lorne stops him. "I don't want to see you out of here until Keller tells me you're cleared. Doc -"
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah, I know." Lorne's biting down on a smile, but he looks concerned underneath that. He turns back to Anna, pulling her IV out of arm's reach from David's bed. "Captain."
"Sir, I-"
"Major Hughes sends his apologies." There's another snort from Shaughnessy, another groan, both of which Lorne ignores.
"He- I-" Really? thinks Anna.
"He's a little busy right now, but he wanted me to tell you he thinks you made a good decision out there."
"Uh, thank you?"
Lorne smiles, finally, and walks out of the infirmary without a second glance.
Diaz chuckles as he slips down from his bed. "Sheppard is kicking Hughes' ass right now."
~
None of the Atlantis pilots are happy about how it goes down when the Wraith find Earth. They all know pilots who died in the skies over Area 51.
"We know how to fight the Wraith," mutters Yates. "We could have gone through with Sheppard."
It's been a month, and they've gone over it a hundred times. Every time, it works out best if they were there, if the pilots flying 302s against the Wraith knew what they were facing.
It's been a month, and they still don't know if they're going back to Pegasus.
Sheppard looks tired when he enters the briefing room. "Okay, I'm gonna keep this short."
Anna's skin itches.
"As you know, we lost a lot of good pilots against the Wraith." They murmur agreement. "The SGC has decided to recall half of you to help with training new 302 pilots, as well as Earth Defense. I'm hoping -" Sheppard has to raise his voice against their reaction. "I'm hoping that some of you will want to volunteer -"
They're going back to Pegasus. The city's going back.
"- obviously priority will go those in recon teams -"
Meaning tough luck if you don't volunteer to stay. Nearly half the pilots are on teams. Anna barely listens as Sheppard says he'll speak to everyone individually.
She stays seated as the others leave, muttering their discontent. She's about to follow them when she realises Sheppard's still there.
"Hey, Rodriguez." He may be tired, but under it all he looks happy. No secret that Sheppard's desperate to get back to Pegasus. "How'd you feel about heading up a gate team when we get back?"
"Sir?" And then her brain catches up with the words. "Sir, yessir." She can't say it fast enough.
Continued in The Dark-Eyed Girl
The lichens Usnea substerilis and Usnea lapponica are both identified in Halonen, P., Clerc, P., Goward, T., Brodo, I.M. and Wulff, K. (1998) Synopsis of the genus Usnea (lichenized Ascomycetes) in British Columbia, Canada. The Bryologist 101(1): 36-60. Also in Goward, T. (1999) The lichens of British Columbia. Illustrated Keys. Part 2-Fruticose Species. British Columbia Ministry of Forests, special report 9. Victoria: Crown Publications, 319 pp. You don't need to know this, but I google the hell out of my improbable science. For all I know they look nothing alike, but on the other hand: lichen
Papaver somniferum - opium poppy :)
Yes, I gave a USAF pilot a callsign from Top Gun. Shame on me. I also named one after a chain of chemists, which is just peculiar.